


Yippee Ki Yay

by Knightfalling_for_you



Series: Movie Nights [1]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Die Hard References, F/M, Heatvixen, Holiday classics, Mickaya, Mixen, Tis the season to blow things up, Vixenwave, i need more of this ship, whatever we're calling it, who knows honestly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-08 07:09:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8835130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Knightfalling_for_you/pseuds/Knightfalling_for_you
Summary: Mick shows Amaya the only Christmas movie worth watching.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

It all starts because Amaya walks into the galley wearing the stetson she picked up from their second trip to the wild west, her hair twisted into a tight braid underneath. She’s wearing a black leather jacket again, the same one she was wearing when she nearly took his eye out with a ninja star. It’s paired with a small, light brown shirt, jeans that hug her curves, and black boots. 

Mick does his best not to stare, but notices her in all the same. It’s like casing a bank; he takes in every detail, but fast, so it doesn’t seem like he’s lingering. If he’s honest, Snart was always better at quick once-overs than he was. Mick’s gaze lingers a little too long and Amaya meets his eyes. 

So he does the only thing he can. He puts on a rough grin and says “Yippee ki yay, motherfucker,” leaning back in his chair and shifting his eyes to stare at the hat instead of Amaya herself.

“Excuse me?” she snaps, taken aback. Mick mentally curses himself. He’s used to insulting his teammates, but this time it was completely unintentional. _Smooth_ , a voice in his head, which sounds a little too much like Snart. _She’s from the 1940s, you idiot, not 21st-century New Jersey._

“Wasn’t insulting you,” he mutters, trying hard not to sound like he’s apologizing. Mick doesn’t like apologizing to anyone on the crew, no exceptions. “It’s a quote from a classic holiday movie.”

“Really?” she says, rolling her eyes. “What does it have to do with me?”

“It’s that dumb hat,” he says, pointing to her head, trying to ignore the fact that okay, yes, the stetson looks good on her, and she probably pulls off the look better than anyone else on board. “See, in the movie, the bad guy tells the main character that he’s basically an idiot who’s seen too many westerns and thinks he’s some sort of cowboy hero. Then he says he has no chance,and the guy says that line in response.”

“And that’s a holiday classic?” she asks, still skeptical. 

“Yup,” he says, taking a sip from his bottle of beer. “I’m not really a fan of cartoons about singing snowmen.”

“Gideon?” Amaya asks, glancing over at a nearby screen. “Do you have any films in your archives?”

“Certainly,” the AI replies perkily. “I can access any movie or tv series ever created. For example, Mr. Palmer regularly asks me to play _Sleepless in Seattle._ ”

“Whaddaya doing?” Mick asks, even though he’s pretty sure he already knows the answer.

“You said that movie’s a classic,” Amaya replies innocently. “I just want to see why.”

Mick stares at the table for a second, absentmindedly drumming his fingertips against it. Just one movie. Two hours or so of watching Bruce Willis shoot and blow up Germans. It’s not a big deal. It’s not. It’s something he’d do with anyone on the ship if they bothered to ask.

“Gideon, cue up the first _Die Hard_ in my room,” he says, grabbing a pack of beers and standing up. Then he turns to Amaya. “You talk during any of the good parts, and I’m kicking you out.”

. . .

Pretty soon it turns into a drinking game. Take a shot every time someone dies, take a shot every time you hear ode to joy, etcetera. To Mick’s surprise, Amaya actually joins in. He’s not sure he’s ever seen her drink, even when they spent all that time in the saloon back in the wild west. He wonders briefly if the JSA had some stupid rule about not getting drunk on the job.

“Do people always cuss this much in your fucking time period?” Amaya says with a laugh, watching Bruce Willis yell at the police over the phone.

“Yep,” he says. “Except for Haircut, probably, but he’s probably never shot anyone either.”

Drunk as he is, Mick notices something funny. Most of the time, Amaya’s eyes are transfixed on the screen. But every now and then, when something explodes, her eyes flicker to him, watching his reaction to it. Then her gaze will flick back to the TV, as if nothing’s happened. If she’s disturbed at all by how he enjoys the carnage, she doesn’t show it. A part of him wonders if she understands, if the animal part of her ever wants destruction.

When the credits roll, Gideon asks if they want to see the next film in the series. Amaya, who’s leaning a little closer to Mick than she was when the film started, looks up at him expectantly. He tells Gideon to roll the film, not bothering to point out that it doesn’t get much better than the original.

. . .

When Mick wakes up, he’s conscious of the fact that he’s still on the ratty old sofa he swiped from the 1960s and not his actual bed. The second thing he notices is that he’s not alone. Amaya’s curled into him, her small frame pressed up against his larger figure. He sits still, not sure what to do. Still sleeping, Amaya nuzzles his neck, making a contented sound, like a happy kitten. Her stetson and jacket lie discarded on the floor, and her hair hangs loose, tugged free of its braid. She’s got one hand clinging to Mick’s shirt.

Mick glances at the screen, which is stuck on the menu of _A Good Day to Die Hard_. He has a hazy memory of Amaya wanting to watch the rest of the sequels and him being to tired (and too hammered to say no). He blacked out somewhere in the middle of the third.

Mick stares at the ceiling, wondering what to do. He doesn’t want to move and risk waking her, but at the same time, he’d rather get out of this position before A) she realizes wakes up on her own and threatens to kill him, or B), a member of the crew comes by and gets the wrong idea.

Of course, another part of Mick doesn’t want to move. Having Amaya this close is . . . well, it’s not unpleasant. She’s soft and warm. And even when she’s awake and they’re not touching, there’s something about her. She’s got fire in her blood, even if it’s usually restrained, even if she pretends to have rules.

So Mick doesn’t move. He lies there, closing his eyes again, with the tiniest hint of a smile. Maybe next time he’ll ask if Amaya wants to see _Rocky._


End file.
